You all know I am not the type who walks around blaming life’s problems on my childhood. In fact, I take great pride in where I have come and just how much work I have done to learn to have a healthy relationship with myself and those in my life. I focus more on healthy boundaries with children, rightly so, than I ever have with the adults. My friends whom have known me the longest can easily agree that changes have been made. I can clearly recall the days of deep depressions and worries. However, I am no longer a woman who needs to hide in my bed or think suicidal thoughts. This does not, after all, mean that I have truly dealt with my ugly truths.

As a survivor of sexual abuse, we all understand that sexual attention is what we seek in almost all relationships. At 12, when my peers were learning how to be loved and to love, I was learning the basics of sex at the hands of my father. That can really fuck a person up. It has taken its toll on my life for many years. I couldn’t assert a healthy relationship boundary if I wanted to. Boy I craved the attention like a drug. I needed the sexual high in order to feel safe and in control. The control was, after all, the one thing in my life I never had. Even at 12 I understood that men used women as sexual objects. We were good for sex and sex alone.

It pains me to say I was only good for sex, but at that time in my life, that is all I was; my father’s toy to fuck with and use as he wanted. Resulting in a very scared woman who was clueless what real love could even look like. I had no inner connection with who I was or had the tools in my basket to unveil the woman I could be. Then my husband came along and changed my life, for the rest of my life. I used to always say that it is because of my first son that I am alive today, as I was very suicidal. It is because of my marriage to Travis that I am the healthiest I have ever been.

When I left, I promised him and my family that I would seek out professional help to finally deal with the deeper demons I have clearly pushed aside. On a daily, functioning basis, I am very healthy…it was just the deeper parts of me I needed to have a dialogue with. So I sat. I sat still for the first time in my life. I didn’t make plans on a Friday night. I didn’t call up a fuck buddy to help ease the pain. I quilted. I made pillows. I painted pictures. I wrote in my journal till my hand had gone numb. I allowed myself to just be alone. I watched my favorite movies over and over again. I sat in the dark while listening to classical music. I cried, oh I cried many rivers. I hugged myself and let myself feel the pain of being my father’s toy.

It didn’t take long at all, only a few weeks, for me to realize what the problem was. On the surface level I had known this all along. Certainly, most of my friends could have pointed this out. But I never let myself just be with me. I didn’t give myself permission to feel the pain that my father had caused by teaching me at such a young age the basics of sex. Ick. I hate how that sounds, but it’s so very true. It’s part of the ugly parts of me that I had no control over.

So while I sat, sat all alone, I learned a great deal. Never in my life have I felt a more inner peace with who I am as an individual. I learned that I can be alone and actually enjoy the silence. I learned that life doesn’t have to move so quickly, and taking time to smell the roses (as they all say) can offer up some much needed clarity. I learned that I am more than sex. Though I will not give that up, I can say who, when, where, and just how much. I don’t have to flirt to feel alive nor do I have to have someone in my bed every night. I learned that, I will always enjoy the company of others but that doesn’t mean I have to sleep with them to have self gratification. I learned that feeding my healthy wants and desires (such as crafts and dancing) gives me more satisfaction than anything else in life ever has. I know that I am not just a mom or hard worker. I am me! I can love me!

I am not broken. I never was. I was just a scared 12 year old little girl who didn’t understand that the rest of the world was growing up around me. I wouldn’t allow myself to breathe. I couldn’t let go of control. I had to plan my life minute by minute. Now I know that patience, which is not my strong point, really can give one a reason to just sit still and live life. I have learned that I can give 110% without sacrificing who I am as an individual. I am a survivor of sexual abuse, but it will never destroy another relationship I have.

Years ago, I sat down with my therapist and asked her what she thought I needed to work on. Her only advice was that I learn to be me. Learn to be authentic and not worry so much about being a good little girl. I need to let go of my 12 year old self and see the world as an adult. I needed to hold my children safe. I needed to make sure they never knew abuse like I have. I needed to learn how to love a man without having to give him all of me from the very beginning.

A few sessions in therapy (around that same time) I asked her about sex. What do I do about liking sex so very much? She had the best advice I have ever heard and finally allowed myself to feel. She said “Sex is an important part of everyday life. It is something that we can learn to live without, but by no means does it have to be something that is controlled or taken for granted. It is, after all, very natural to want it” She continued to tell me that “there are many ways to embrace what was once such a demon in your life.” She worked with me to gain the tools I needed to see that I can enjoy sex without flash backs or nightmares following. She was right. Over these years, I have embraced something that was a horrible tragedy in my life.

So where does that leave me now? HEALTHY! I look at myself and I see someone who is uniquely beautiful and courageous. I see someone who loves with all her heart and gives everything she can. I see a friend who wants to be there for others, but has learned to stop letting others walk all over her. I see a WOMAN who understands healthy sex and unhealthy sex. I see a woman finally understands the benefits of a healthy relationship with herself and others. I see someone who is finally ready to feel love and be loved at her finest.  I can finally see the value in waiting. I cannot stand to wait. I have no patience. But I see that while waiting life offers up a particular amount of silence that can teach you more about yourself than you ever dreamt possible.

I am at peace. I know that I am not perfect. I know I will always have flaws. Those flaws, however, are what make me, me. I cannot change that I was abused. I cannot undo the damage my father caused in my life. I can, however, take action and control what I do to others and myself.

I AM HAPPY!

Fighting his parole is one of my more challenging task. I often fear that he will know how many times I have gone back and fought (every) and build up an intense amount of anger with me. My father still says the abuse is my fault; I begged for it and wanted it. However when my mother asked him if he abused me he said “he had things to teach me.” Who knows what his inner truth says in his own head, but I am beyond happy that he is still behind bars, rotting for a few more years!

Hugs to all,

Tiffani

As with most cases of abuse, Gilbey spent time coaxing or grooming her 14-year old victim and developing a relationship with the girl, eventually leading to a night of drugs and alcohol that further spurred the unwanted sexual acts. The victim’s statement described feelings of “betrayal and [being] used.” Gilbey’s defense, even amongst her guilty plea, was her own admission of childhood sexual abuse by a step-parent.

At what point is a victim responsible for overcoming their own trauma and preventing a continuation of the cycle? Apparently not soon enough — as they know what they are doing, but do it anyway. Sadly in Gilbey’s case, she was charged and released back into society after the incident with the 14-year old; thereby, allowing her to violate her five-year old victim. The abuse of the 14-year old happened in 2009; whereas, the abuse of the five-year old happened on August 10, 2010. She was the babysitter for the five-year old. In fact, she was a family friend.

How can charges be filed and within a year the abuser is victimizing yet another child? How do we as a society curb the chances of these events happening? In the case of the five-year old, Gilbey was a “friend of the family” whom the mom let babysit her five and ten-year old daughters. Was the mother, being Gilbey’s friend, unaware of the sexual interference charges from the prior year? Was she unaware that her “friend” was an admitted sexual predator? The abuse occurred while the mom was on a 90-minute shopping trip — 90-minutes, forever changed this little girl’s life and stripped her of her innocence.

As for Gilbey, she received seven-years in prison, a mandatory DNA sample w/name inclusion on the national sex offender registry for 20-years, and the inability to volunteer or be in a position of trust with anyone under 18-years of age. These are all reactive sentences. What about mandatory counseling to work through the long-standing affects of her own abuse? When do we rehabilitate, properly? What happens if the victims don’t end the cycle because society focuses on the reaction, and not the prevention?

At what point do we as society recognize this epidemic that kills childhood innocence? At what point do we make a stand and perform prevention and awareness campaigns to end the silence? If Gilbey received help for her own abuse, could she have prevented the cycle? Was she afraid of the label society would put on her if she revealed her secret? Instead, she allowed living her secret to consume her. Her secret eventually was exposed, but not before it was shared privately with two innocent children, who now have their own secret.

What I learned keeps me going every time I start to slip back into those dark clouds. I have managed to keep afloat all these years later, but I promise you there are dark times. The key is focusing on the feeling, realizing where it comes from, and allowing yourself to go through the motions that happen naturally. It isn’t easy. Every therapist I have talked to and the books I have read all suggest ways to “get over it.” If it was that easy then there would be no need for sites like this or the million self help books authors are trying to cash in on. The fact is, depression is a very real and scary time in your life. Not only for you but for anyone around you. What was accpetable one day can simply send you in a downward sprial. I can’t imagine the guessing game that our loved ones go through during such a trying time.

The great news? You can get through it. Learning how to deal with your emotions is the first step you simply cannot afford to skip.  I don’t put all my emotions in a basket and neither should you. Everyone feels differently. We all experience the exact same situation in a completely different way. So why is one method going to work for everyone? It’s just not going to! For me, I needed to feel through the pain. I needed to lay on the floor in the fetal position with my favorite teddy bear, and cry it out. If the tears wouldn’t come I’d play a sad movie (Hope Floats always worked) and force the tears to stream down. I’d yell at the ceiling, call my best friend just to bitch, and of course journal my way through all the bull shit.

Taking time to experience the pain and sadness, allowing yourself to feel is the only process that worked for me. Don’t get me wrong I was in therapy a short time during my depression. I’ll be the first to tell you therapy made it worse…but in the best way possible. It was a safe room that I could talk about anything. I could rat out my father in the best possible ways. I could cuss! I could cry! I could sit there in silence if need be. The days I left wanting to kill myself where by far the best therapy days I had. So it wasn’t always butterflies and rainbows, but it was certainly what I needed to get through my depression. Well that, and a roll of chocolate chip cookie dough!

It isn’t easy to give yourself  persmission to feel through it, but you just have to. I don’t want anyone to have smiles and sunshine every day through their healing process…odds are then you aren’t really doing the work you need to. However, you can do the work, feel the pain, and move forward with your life! You can do this! You are worth the smiles that come at the end of all this work.

I know right now, there doesn’t seem to be a light at the end of the tunnel. Hell, I spent many days crying because no one could tell me when I’d feel better. No one could predict how much work I’d have to do, to get to where I am today. Dammit, how does one do all this fucking hard work without any immediate rewards? You just do! You have to. For the future of your own life, but also the one that you have no idea is coming.

I walked through the hell simply to live to be the mom I am right now. If I had taken the easy route, I wouldn’t be here and then my amazing children wouldn’t be here, and the love I feel for my husband…well you get it. I can’t imagine not having all these amazing gifts in my life. When I say you are worth it, you really are! There will be a day you will wake up and realize you can crawl out of bed, make breakfast, and put a smile on your face. It takes time…YOU CAN DO IT!

Hugs,

Tiffani Wampler

www.facebook.com/livingasecret

Key phrase, WITHOUT THEM! It isn’t easy. I have stated before that my father’s family did very little to support me and it wasn’t until I was 28 that I even started talking to one uncle and aunt. No one called to check up on me but they did visit with my father in prison. My mother questioned me so many times that I felt she asked the questions simply because she just couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that her husband (the one she chose) would ever touch her child. WRONG! Those questions, the lack of contact/concern, and standing alone to fight my father’s parole are clear signs people don’t believe me!

My only advice, LET THEM GO! No it’s not easy but it gets easier. Eventually there comes a day where you realize you don’t need such drama in your life. Sometimes, just lowering your expectations is all you need. Let go of the ideas that they will be there to hold your hand through the dark hours. Understand what they are willing to give and take that with a grain of salt. There is nothing you can do to get them to react the way you need them to. Trust that they will disappoint, but it happens less if you put enough distance between you and them. You can do it. You will do it. It is time to take control of your life!

It won’t happen over night. Trust that you will need more support through letting people go than you ever imagined. It is okay to ask for help, to lean on others, and most importantly to admit that you need someone to hold your hand through this process. It feels great to cleanse your soul, better than you can imagine right now.

Hugs to all. I know the place your in. I know the hell that is going on between your head and your heart. I know all to well the crazy silence that fills the room when thousands surround you with their questions. You can walk through this. I know you can!

Tiffani Wampler

One of my favorite childhood memories is of the million performances I had as  a child that my mother would always help me prepare for. Every play, pageant, school dance, and boyfriend break up my mother was right there by my side getting me through it. She was the best homeroom mom, making a chocolate cake with my name in M&M’s every year for my birthday. So much so, that even as an adult I still love the same birthday cake!

Of course my sister and I had our share of silly sister fights over borrowing clothes and who was on the phone the longest. Remember those days before cell phones and only one land line in the house? It was a crazy time, something worth laughing at now. My sister was there for me when I took the “big steps” in love and learning how to trust myself enough to have a safe relationship with someone. She was there through all the awkward teenage years, sticking up for me as I was teased, and over all being a great friend I could share my growing pains with. I learned a lot from her and I miss that closeness dearly.

As we have grown apart, and I certainly know why, I am saddened to think that some of this might be past the point of repair. I don’t believe for one second that you have to keep family around just because you share the same blood line. What I feel is more important is surrounding yourself with those who love you and support you no matter what. I have some really awesome family members, and I have many friends whom I call family. It just seems that having healthy people in my life, who can make healthy choices keeps me a bit more sane and level headed. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss them.

I didn’t have a good father. Not having a mother in my life, sucks even worse.

Hugs,

Tiffani

So what is such drama I dare not speak of? My mother. Yeah that’s the ever killer disappointment that I don’t even know how to battle. I have tried talking to her, so don’t think this hasn’t been said to her face, but really who on here doesn’t have an issue with at least one of their parents? As I was responding to a post on Facebook, I said “I spend more time angry with my mother than my father because I feel like she didn’t protect me. Since I don’t care to have any sort of relationship with my father, than having the mother I always wanted is still a painful sore in my life.” I have completely lowered any expectation of her existence in my life and my children’s life. The pain though, hasn’t gone away. I miss her every day and wish for just once she would try, without anger, to see my side of a very painful childhood and how the choices she continues to make through  my adult years effect my relationship with her.

It is not like she doesn’t know where I am coming from. After all, her own childhood was not that of white picket fences and family celebrations she wishes she could recall. That is her story, not mine to share, but let’s all agree she does know how it feels to be mistreated; however, her lack of empathy stabs my back through all her heartless statements. She will not approve of me airing my “dirty laundry” for all the world to see. More so, she will not like being portrayed as anything less than mother of the year. Still, this is part of my story. The hardest chapter to write in my book, and by far the most hurt filled moment in my life where I had to come with terms to what my mother’s role in my life would be.

I have said time and time again, that it is my mother who supported my healing process at first. But as the days unraveled and time stood against me in turning my father in, it was her hurtful questions that have caused an unrecognizable pain that I am certain she will never understand. It is one thing to describe the color of my underwear to a detective gathering evidence, it is another for my mother to need all the details to believe me. That is, after all, how it felt. As my mother continued to question what happened, all while still seeing my father during the  time I was turning him in, it made feel small and useless. That even my own mother believed her husband over me! I would never hold such regards to my husband whom I dearly love and firmly believe he’d never hurt a soul. Still, if my child said he hurt them I’d first believe my child, not my husband. Curiosity, could be blamed here, but even a decade later she is still questioning what happened between my father and I as if  I was the “other woman” not his child. Let’s be clear here, she has in fact, referred to me as the other woman. I feel dirty enough without that comparison, but how dare she use such hateful words. I was not the other woman, for Christ sake I am their daughter! If his actions towards me point more to a  lover than a daughter, she might want to look at the many times she ignored the countless acts of “love” made by him towards me.

That’s it! I said it, I FEEL LIKE SHE IGNORED the very problem at hand. She did not protect me a way a mother does. One can blame her own childhood for blinding her to such a degree that she would not clearly see what was happening. Still, as I shed light on what was really happening and her words “I thought something weird was going on” ring in my ear, I think, WHY THE FUCK did you not SAY something? Ask something? Talk to a counselor? Anything aside from sweeping it under a rug? She was not taught to deal with issues, the older I get, the more I see how her own childhood molded her into the adult she is. HOWEVER, I REFUSE to allow any one to blame their adult decisions on their childhood. It is very true that we spend our adult years trying to overcome what happened in our childhood. At some point in your life you must come to realize what is going on and deal with it. I have all the patience in the world with those who are trying to gain the tools needed in life to have healthy adult relationships, and no longer be walked all over. I do not have tolerance with the adult who thinks because their childhood sucked, that they cannot be a healthy adult. Therefore, why after all her years, does she not realize how painful the words/actions she chooses makes me feel?

I do understand that my public life has led to not only her being proud of me, but also questioned just how involved she wants to be in all of this. She can encourage me to speak publicly to raise awareness on sexual abuse, she cannot face the demons that really lie between her and I. There are so many elephants in the room, that I don’t even know where to begin.  I am not a believer of “forgiveness” but I do hold high regards to owning up to one’s mistakes. Rather an apology came after, I care not, but dammit what I wouldn’t give for both my mother and father to come to terms with the choices they made, how they fucked up my life, and what exactly it did to me. My father though, will never understand and of course I could care less about the man. But my mother? Surely, she misses me? Misses her grandchildren? Wants to know what I really stand for, not just who she wants me to be?

I don’t wish to change my mother, anyone for that matter. I just want her to realize that she turned the other cheek. She can swear up and down that she never saw my dad’s penis hanging out of those red shorts, but she cannot deny that she saw the way he treated me. She may not have walked in on me being abused, but she can agree his need to pay my medical bills over hers is certainly odd. That slamming her into a corner because she questioned why he paid such bills, is certainly  a FUCKING RED FLAG. She can admit that fucking him while I was turning him in, was a HUGE BETRAYAL that when said to other people cause them to gasp at such behavior. Who does that? What mother in her right mind does that? Well maybe she wasn’t in her right mind? That would certainly explain a lot.

I didn’t feel safe during the 11 months I waited for my father to go to prison. Still, she left town for a weekend leaving me trapped in an apartment my dad had the address to. I had no car, few friends, and my only transportation ended up being my father’s truck that he drove over while a friend followed him. How was that a healthy choice for any of us involved? I was so very scared, but I didn’t have the reasoning or passion I have now to actually stand up for my own rights. Of course my mother needed a break, but why was her first choice not to protect me? She could have made sure I was with a friend, had a get away car, something, anything than leave me alone with that man walking around knowing he had stalked us before. One night she went to visit a friend saying that if I felt scared or something happened to call her and she’d be right home. The friends house was about a 15 minute drive. We were already at her best friends house. A house with nothing but windows from one end to the next. I was fine until the sun set and a car continued to drive down the street and turn around. On any other night I would have suspected someone was lost, but in this mindset I was convinced it was my dad watching my every move. I caved, interupting my mother’s night away. However, a friend of mine who lived 40 minutes away arrived before she did. Not only did he comfort me, but he stayed the night making sure I could sleep. His friendship and comfort is one I have never forgotten, because he was THERE.

Overall, maybe that’s more of the problem I have with my mother than anything else. Over all these years I feel she has rarely been there on any emotional level. When I describe my relationship with my mother I say “its very superficial.” There is so much truth behind that. She does not know who I am, and clearly I don’t know much about her. When I do attempt any kind of communication I get very short answers that give me no truths to the woman she is. I do care what is going on in her life but I can only give so much with out something coming back to me.  She is always too tired, too busy, or just doesn’t answer the phone. She has yet to invite my family out for anything but regularly sees my sister and her children. Therefore, she obviously has time to commit to making that relationship work. Her and I  have a lot to get through, don’t get me wrong, but why is it not important to her to get through? Does she not realize she is part of this problem? It will not go away by not talking about it. I will continue to keep my distance just to keep some sort of sanity in my life; as it is easier to have no expectations than continue to be disappointed. She has made her choices and clearly I have made mine.

I have no idea if my mother reads this blog, but I do know that many of my readers feel as though their mother/father did not protect them. These are only a  few examples of how I feel my mother supported my father’s choices and did not make it a priority to protect me, her daughter. I have, nor ever will, blame her for the abuse from my father’s hands. So Mom, if you are reading this, please understand I don’t blame you for the actual abuse. What I cannot come to terms with is how you have handled even the most recent events in our lives. There are situations in which I have not been able to go public about, that have caused such a great distance. But in all the craziness the fact I am your daughter does not change. I can only hope that over time, the relationship I have with my mother will improve and my children will know the grandmother she is to her other grandchildren. As I stated before, clearly family is not those who you are related to. There are people I am related to, and then there is my family. I have an amazing family…few of which I am related to.

Hugs to all!

Tiffani Wampler

A few of the changes will include news links on stories buried by the national media, a personal video blog, guest bloggers, and a community and events outreach page. Don’t panic if you think the site is down, or it looks ‘weird.’ Yes, we know its broken, but its necessary during a time of growth and change! See you soon as LAS goes 3.0!

We are currently seeking anyone, male or female, who would like to share their survival story of sexual abuse on camera. We can hide your face and disguise your voice but would like as many people as possible who don’t mind being on camera. The goal of the film is to show that sexual abuse can happen to anyone and doesn’t always have bruises and depression along with it.

Please pass along the video and share our Facebook page as much as possible!!! The more people see it, the more people are educated on what abuse looks like and does to one’s soul, the better the future will!

For more information please contact us, survivors@livingasecret.com
Thank you!

Ten years ago today, I decided I’d love me

Ten years ago today, I became a new woman

Ten years ago today, the abuse stopped by his hands

Ten years ago today, I found a reason to smile

Ten years ago today, I stood up for my inner child

Ten years ago today, I realized just how important I am

Ten years ago today, I stood up to that man

Ten years ago today, I said he could rot in hell

Ten years ago today, I came out of my shell

Ten years ago today, I told my family

Ten years ago today, the tears are now a memory

Ten years ago today, my life became my own

Ten years ago today, I understood the meaning of home

Ten years ago today, life became beautiful again

Ten years ago today, I found out who were my real friends

Ten years ago today, my heart opened just a little more

Finally today, I celebrate my freedom in front of the entire world

For now I know what the silence really did

And know I can be happy and finally live!

Hugs to all,

Tiffani Wampler